


greedy

by ahegao (vapours)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Badly-timed sexual dalliances, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Rescue Missions, Rope Bondage, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapours/pseuds/ahegao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, untying McCree is not necessarily tantamount to rescuing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	greedy

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic that i've finished/published in almost three years! this is also my very first dip into writing for this fandom. comments and critique are always welcomed and encouraged!
> 
> edited 12/26 to finally fix some embarrassing autocorrect mistakes.

When Hanzo finally makes it into the right room in the right abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, after single-handedly picking off each and every Talon agent that guarded it and after scouring nearly every single dilapidated room in the hideout, the sight of Jesse McCree tied to a chair is so absurd that it makes him want to cry.

To be fair, the chair is welded to the floor, and McCree’s bondage seems to be made of stronger stuff than simple twine...but regardless, Hanzo had been expecting more. He thought that with all the time and care that Talon had apparently put into scooping one of them up - and considering the extreme situations they'd put former Overwatch agents into in the past - Hanzo had been expecting something different. But he had also been expecting something _worse_.

Jesse McCree, deadly sharpshooter and apparent master of getting himself into some truly fucking ridiculous situations, looks upsettingly happy to see him. Hanzo, still panting from exertion, only manages to glower back.

Of course McCree had to be compromised on an espionage mission in Germany, and the rest of the Overwatch team (well, whichever of them stayed behind - just 76, Ziegler, the elder Amari woman, Zarya, Oxton, and Hanzo himself) chose to postpone it in order to hunt down the oaf.

It had been a mess. Hanzo found himself wishing every day that the rest of his team would cease turning their pity-filled eyes upon him every time they discussed McCree's status, or the fate of his disconnected communicator, or their chances of actually finding him before he was killed or worse. They had, after all, been the ones who had assured him (and everyone else) that fraternization was acceptable so long as it was kept relatively under wraps - and here they seemed to have been nudging him into bringing his personal matters to light. Which had been ridiculous; he didn't have to be involved with Jesse McCree to want him back safe. But the fact that Hanzo _is_ had rather raised the stakes of this rescue operation.

It had taken two days and six embarrassing "sinister" warnings from Reaper, but now...here he is: tied to a chair, staring at Hanzo with the purest expression of shock and adoration on his grizzled face that Hanzo has ever seen.

It's almost as if his brain shorts out for a moment. The worry that he hadn't let himself experience for the past seventy-two hours in lieu of dedicating himself to just finding the stupid man floods him all at once, and his hand clenches on his bow. Jesse has been saying his name. Hanzo lets his held breath out in one long huff.

One of the only thoughts that manages to claw its way across his adrenaline-jolted brain is that Jesse looks so unfortunately, terribly good when he's tied up.

"You oaf," he murmurs. The scruffy smile Jesse aims at him could lead a ship home on a foggy night.

"Terrible sorry about that," Jesse says, tilting his bare head. He's never without that awful cowboy hat - they must have knocked it off him at some point. Or worse. Hanzo approaches him like a wary cat, subconsciously waiting for Jesse to strike out. No telling whether they've made him into a sleeper agent. Or worse - that's all he keeps thinking, _or worse or worse or worse_... God, but he's alive, and that's what matters most to Hanzo right now, foolish as it may be. "They caught me at the right time, apparently, I ain't -"

"Did they hurt you?" Hanzo doesn't mean to cut him off, but he has too many questions now that his thoughts are returning to him, and he's raring to ask even the stupid ones, like that one. Of course he's hurt... "Did they - alter you in any way that you know of?"

Jesse's mouth closes, opens, and closes again in the time it takes for Hanzo to lower into a crouch and start checking Jesse over for injuries, of which he has several. The most obvious is his cybernetic arm, crushed and mangled down to its endoskeleton and tied to the chair at scarred elbow and ruined wrist. Hanzo's face twists in distaste. Jesse also has two black eyes and - ah, of course - a nose that looks to have been thoroughly broken and hastily set.

"Uh, well, the prosthetic's toast - probably didn't need to tell you that, though..." he starts, sheepish as always in the face of Hanzo's intensity; of course Hanzo notices. "The nose is bad. Think they might have cracked a rib or two, and uh-" he shifts his right shoulder and hisses "-that's definitely all hells of dislocated. There might be more, but I ain't of the clearest mind just presently..."

Hanzo gives Jesse an appraising glance from between the narrow spread of his bound legs. Hanzo thinks that they must be thinking about the same things: Gabriel Reyes’s wraithlike form, his vengeful, baseless aggression. Amélie Lacroix’s ice-blue skin and her cold, murderous disregard for her former friends. Jesse meets his gaze, looking sort of nervous.

"I sure am glad to see your face again, sugar," he says. Even punctuated with an awkward chuckle, his voice is like a shot of cinnamon whiskey. The warmth that blooms in Hanzo's chest takes him off guard; he has never let someone affect him in this way before. Jesse squirms a little against his bonds, which would (to Hanzo's private surprise) be sexy if Hanzo didn't know that Jesse was injured...

It doesn't occur to him to notify anyone else of his discovery until the communicator in his ear comes to life. Jesse, who had been fixing to say something, shuts his mouth when he hears the telltale noise.

" _Status update, Shimada?_ " 76's voice, not unlike sandpaper put haphazardly through a blender, makes Hanzo jump. He had...nearly forgotten that there were people and things that existed outside of Jesse and this warehouse. Hanzo snaps out of his embarrassing daze; he is an Overwatch agent now, part of a team. He is an operative first and a lover second. So he answers.

"Agent McCree is alive," he says, and a cheer rings out from four different chan els. It's odd to refer to Jesse as Agent McCree, now, but Hanzo has found that 76 is a stickler for keeping up appearances - and so is Hanzo. "The warehouse in the northeast corner was being used as a temporary hideout. I have eliminated any possible threats."

" _Heat sensor told us that much, luv_!" Oxton chirps. " _Blimey, but you really gave 'em one, didn't you, Robin Hood?_ "

Hanzo does not grace this with an answer. He chooses instead to run his hands up Jesse's thighs instead; his pretense remains that he is checking for wounds. "He is mostly unaffected, but his  prosthetic is destroyed. Various other  minor injuries - biotic assistance would be appreciated." Jesse's face goes blissful at the mere mention of healing.

" _I have the shot_ ," Ana chimes in. Mercy, who had started to say something on another line, goes quiet.

"Please take it," Jesse moans, tipping his head back. "Then can you maybe unt-"

"Please take it," Hanzo parrots, and does not insult Ana by deigning to move out of the way. Her biotic bullet cracks through the stagnant air of the warehouse three seconds later, straight into Jesse's gut, and he gasps with the force of it, the impact it has on his body.

" _Jee_ -zus," he huffs. His shoulder pops back into its socket by itself, which is disturbing. Jesse seems to think so as well, making a face. "Ech. Much better."

His bound flesh hand still twitches. He looks about two seconds away from bucking out of his ropes like an agitated stallion. That would be a shame.

Instead of doing the right thing, Hanzo slides up onto Jesse's lap.

"Oh," Jesse breathes, going red in an instant. He's always so quick to blush. "You -"

"Allow me fifteen minutes to secure the area," Hanzo says into his earpiece. Granted, he had been bred to be paranoid, but he's certain that the rest of his team sees through his transparent lie...he waits a moment, but no one calls him out on it. Perhaps he had let his distress during the past two days show a touch more than he had anticipated, and they are, so to speak, "throwing him the bone" - and, God, just thinking about that makes hot shame rise in his throat.

However, Hanzo’s humiliated and adrenaline-riddled brain supplies, that does not seem to be the only thing rising.

" _Roger. Return to the quinjet no later than 1430_ ," 76 says, his voice betraying nothing aside from gruff relief.

"Understood."

Hanzo takes the communicator out of his ear, sets it on the floor by his bow, and grinds his ass down onto Jesse's now-straining erection, wraps his arms tight around Jesse’s shoulders, presses his cheek against Jesse’s jaw. There are several layers between the two of them, but it doesn't matter; Jesse wheezes a little.

"I had been wonderin' why you weren't untyin' me..." he almost croons, and warm arousal unfurls in Hanzo's stomach - idiot cowboy acts as if he's in control even when he's the one tied down. The worst part may be that he's right. "You got somethin' you need to tell me about your...preferences?"

Hanzo smooths his hands over Jesse's shoulders - he's been relieved of his serape and his chest armor, and the plaid underneath smells like sweat and musk and the dregs of cologne applied too long ago to do much anymore. It's unfortunate how appealing the scent is to him, even when Jesse is in desperate need of a shower. Hanzo buries his nose in Jesse's neck; his unshaven Adam's apple scratches Hanzo's lips.

"I apologize," he says, inhaling. "I am grateful to have found you alive, and you...look good like this, as well. You great idiot."

"Shit, a _great_ idiot. I’m really movin’ up." Jesse's voice is breathy, and he sounds so positively stupid and undeniably alive that it forces an explosive gasp of snorting laughter out of Hanzo's throat. Jesse smiles along, tilting his head on top of Hanzo's. Hanzo does not pretend to ignore the insistent upward shift of Jesse's hips. "Couldn't keep your hands off me, huh? Wish I could say the same."

Hanzo wishes he could say that Jesse's cheap, horndog one-liners still disgust him, but instead he swallows, rocking down into Jesse's lap.

"I can certainly untie you, if you - would prefer that," he says, suddenly unsure of his selfish impulse. He must have let his adrenaline get the best of him - a novice move, he thinks bitterly.

"You got about twelve more minutes to do that, I reckon," Jesse says. He's still breathy; he speaks like he's in awe of the sight of Hanzo above him. "Might like to touch you, but...I'm kinda liking this setup, actually."

He relaxes back into the metal chair (God, how long has he been sitting in that thing? How long has he been tied up? Why is he indulging Hanzo, anyway? Hanzo clearly doesn't deserve it) and rolls his hips up against Hanzo again, huffing out a little groan.

Hanzo lifts himself, shifts himself back, and kisses Jesse hard, cupping Jesse's overgrown beard in his hands as he opens his mouth to Hanzo's tongue. He feels as if he hasn't touched Jesse in months, feels starved for it, ripping the top three buttons of Jesse's dirty shirt open so he can rake his fingers through the thicket of hair on his chest. Those buttons might clatter to the floor, Jesse might make a little noise of surprise in Hanzo's mouth - but Hanzo doesn't notice, and none of it matters save for the slick sliding warmth of Jesse's tongue against his own.

Hanzo does not hesitate to undo Jesse's absurd belt buckle, wastes no time in fumbling his fly open. No underwear, of course...And then Jesse mumbles "ah, fuck," so quiet Hanzo wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been said against his own lips, and Hanzo falters as he drags Jesse's cock out.

Jesse is absurdly large, and another secret shame of Hanzo's is that he likes it - Jesse's fat head, his smell, the way he barely fits in Hanzo's grip (much less elsewhere). The look Jesse's face takes on when he first slides so careful inside of him, every single time...but today, Hanzo's favorite thing out of the bunch is the way Jesse hisses "Jesus, sweetheart," when he swirls his thumb against the slick already pooling at Jesse's slit and starts to move. Jesse's chest heaves and he throws himself back into the kiss; Hanzo presses against him like he's starved for it, silent and indulgent but ever-watchful, every nerve still alight from his rescue mission.

The move shoves his wrist against their stomachs in a way that would be uncomfortable if Hanzo cared. The only thing that matters right now is taking Jesse in, feeling him squirm helpless and jerky against his bonds, sliding the calloused heel of his hand against Jesse's frenum and listening to him moan, deep-voiced and shaky.

Jesse is a simple man, and Hanzo is a quick learner. The three months that he's had to learn what makes Jesse tick (while in the privacy of their own quarters) have been more than enough for him to know how to twist his hand just right, for him to know just how hard to squeeze. He doesn't have much in the way of room or clearance, but Jesse falls apart quickly regardless.

He looks so beautiful, rugged and thrusting breathlessly into Hanzo's hand, that Hanzo is almost completely distracted from his own arousal. All he needs is to see Jesse light up. At least this time, his own pleasure comes second.

"Do not ever do that to me again," he allows himself to growl against Jesse's ear, trailing his lips down to suck a bright hickey at the junction of Jesse's jaw. Jesse makes a noise that might have been a whuff, had it not tapered off into another low moan towards the end.

"Shit happens," Jesse manages, turning his face to gasp into one of Hanzo's sideburns. He tries half-heartedly for a kiss. "I'm s-sorry, sweetheart..."

Hanzo grunts and pulls away to watch Jesse's face, rakes his eyes down the coils of rope wound tight around his arms, down to the slick circle of Hanzo's hand as he jerks him off with impunity.

"Baby," Jesse whines. That pet name has always confused him - not because he doesn't know what the word means in English (he does), not because he doesn't understand why Jesse calls him that (he definitely doesn't), but because of how deeply it affects him every time. Something about the tone or the timbre of Jesse's voice when he says it makes Hanzo want to melt into the floor. It is incredibly undignified - but Jesse doesn't care whether Hanzo is undignified. That makes one of them.

He's buried his face in Jesse's throat again as his wrist works; he breaches deep, drags his teeth across Jesse's throat, and Jesse moans soft in the back of his throat. "Hanzo," he gasps, "I'm gonna come -"

It only takes him four more seconds, and when it happens, it's explosive. Jesse strains up against the ropes, shouting hoarsely as he shoots up to his chin; his head tips back, his bound feet flexing against the floor.

The force of his idiot cowboy's orgasm is enough for Hanzo not to feel as if he has wasted time chasing selfishly after his own desires. He only feels his own urgency as Jesse is coming down; he steals a kiss again, and Jesse surges against him, despite the weak residual twitching of his hips and of his spent cock.

Hanzo presses kisses down Jesse's throat, dragging his tongue across the spend streaked into the untrimmed beard under his chin. It's his turn to be insistent - he hears the little chirp coming from his earpiece that indicates an emergency message. He isn't usually so reckless on a mission, but those three days that Talon had his lover had felt like the longest of his life.

Hanzo presses his aching, clothed cock against Jesse's soft belly, breathing in deep; Jesse's scent is much sharper now, familiar and deeply masculine in a way that makes Hanzo's eyes want to roll back in his head. He needs a shower, badly. They both do. Hanzo just can't seem to resist, and now that he is able to focus on himself he is so close, and that same heady smell of sweat and musk and faded cologne pushes him over the edge. He comes in his hakama, twitching, panting against Jesse's chest.

"Well," Jesse says, always needing to have the last word...or the first, as it were. Hanzo reaches bonelessly down to cut Jesse's right arm free; he presses the  blade, which he always has concealed in his archer's glove, into Jesse's hand. Jesse doesn't move to slice the rest of his bonds away, though. He stretches his arm, sighing with pleasure, and then drags Hanzo in for another deep kiss. Hanzo is lightheaded again by the time he pulls away.

"Think we might be on overtime, shug. Better try to get out of here now," he says. Hanzo nods, grimacing, climbing off of Jesse with steadier legs than he would have given himself credit for. He already regrets spending himself in his pants. Jesse apparently is choosing to gaze up at him instead of watching where he hacks at his rope.

Fortunately, he is blessed with flawless aim. Hanzo is too tired to sneer at him for staring - but it doesn't matter, because soon enough Jesse rises with an absurd amount of noise, stretching like an old dog.

Hanzo picks up his stormbow and then, after a brief prayer for mercy, his communicator. Sighing, he presses the thing back into his ear. "Shimada reporting in," he says, wishing he were anywhere but half a kilometer's hike from the quinjet. "McCree and I are headed out now. Will radio in for backup, should we need it."

 _"Oh, good_!" Tracer is the first to respond, breathing a very audible sigh of relief. " _It's been thirty minutes, you two! I thought if I had to watch Zarya and Morrison arm-wrestle again, I might get a bloody contact hernia!_ "

Zarya's laughter booms in the background, and 76 chimes in next, not sounding best pleased; he must have been losing. Not a surprise. Perhaps he's just angry that Hanzo and Jesse have taken so long. " _I'm clearing backup to move in and collect intel. Just get your asses back to the jet._ "

" _You_ _two_ _are_ _lucky_ _that_ _you_ _are_ _so_ _cute_ ," Angela's singsong voice cuts in. " _Next time, there will be repercussions for not following orders._ "

Jesse looks at Hanzo, his eyebrows raised, and Hanzo tries to stop the blood that rushes full-force to his face. There appear to be some things that even his carefully-trained emotions cannot mask.

His idiot cowboy laughs at him.

"Well, at least you've got the decency to be embarrassed," he says, wrapping his good arm around Hanzo's shoulders. "We should try that shit again sometime. Maybe in less, uh, dire straits..."

Hanzo snorts. "As you wish."

"More like as _you_ wish, eh? You god damned pervert." Jesse laughs, but his face goes blank quicker than anything when he reaches up to adjust his hat and finds only hair. "Aw, shit, my hat..."

"Peacekeeper, too," Hanzo says, “and your disgusting red cape.” Jesse groans; all Hanzo wants to do is leave backup to find three-quarters of Jesse's outfit and then carry the imbecile back to bed himself, but there is always work to be done, and Jesse has never been a fan of other people touching his things.

"Well, we're already late," Jesse sighs, letting go, starting to poke around his stark cement cell. "Jesus, where in the hell’d they hide all my shit?"

Hanzo opens a nearby chest, shifting through its contents and coming up with nothing. "It could be worse," he says. Jesse looks back up at him, then, grinning in a way that makes him - Jesse McCree, a human callus - look vulnerable and soft.

"Yeah," Jesse replies, tucking a dirty hank of hair behind his ear. The look he gives Hanzo is heartbreakingly tender, even though Hanzo only catches the tail end of it. "Yeah, you're right."

 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hit me up on tumblr (stinkard) or twitter (mandibletongues) - i mostly yell about overwatch and cartoons & i take drabble/art requests ! thanks for reading my garbage !!!


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